(no subject)

[evolutionaryimperative]

After their tryst inside of his shop, he did not show up at her club again. But he had ended up another club that evening and on the news the next morning was the report of missing blonde stripper, this one named Nikki Sanders. They reported to once again having no leads to the murderer. And as far as he was concerned, they would never have any leads. He was too careful to get caught.

But that was another issue for another time. For now he had changed out of his work clothes and into a pair of dark jeans and a black shirt. On his way he stopped by one of his favorite take out places and got them some Chinese food. He figured they might as well have some food to eat while they made fun of bad TV together.

It was...nice spending time with Elle, and not just because they ended up having sex so often (although that was nice as well). It had been so long since he had just enjoyed someone else's company. It was a nice indulgence even if he knew it could probably never go any farther than it already had. If she knew anything about what he was really like, it would all be over. And he really didn't want to have to kill her.

He made his way to Elle's apartment from his car and stopped outside the door. He brought his hand up and knocked, waiting for her answer.

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[electrocutesy.livejournal.com]

After their lunch date, and subsequent fuck in his shop, Elle had gone home to shower and change out of her dress, the soft fabric tucked away for some skimpy lingerie set.

Work was work that night--hustling, and drinking, and making fantasies come true. And more than ever, she hated it. Her resentment was starting to make her twitch with suppressed violence every time some asshole looked at her like the pig he was. She couldn't even help but slap some drunk salesman right across his ugly face for telling her something particularly nasty.

Although being a fucking bitch seemed to work wonders, because the more she acted out, the more the guys seemed to like it.

But it wasn't an act, and it shook her a little--no, a lot--when she woke up the next morning with a headache some aspirin cured a few hours later. How much had she drank again?

She didn't know what the problem was, what was wrong with her. What was going on in her stupid head. She didn't want to think about it.

So she dragged herself into the shower to clean up for Gabriel instead. She went out and bought condoms, snacks, plenty of alcohol, too. She made sure she was wearing the cutest little corset top she owned with jeans, and did her hair. It was nice, actually seeing someone. She assumed that's what they were doing now, seeing each other. They were dating.

She was just finishing up putting the beers in the fridge when she heard his knock on the door, and her stomach flipped like she'd missed a step on a flight of stairs or something. She walked down her reals ones just fine though, and opened the door with a practiced, flirtatious smile.

"Hey there," she said sweetly, her eyes noting the bag of delicious smelling food. That was thoughtful of him.